


Brother

by Shaleschnueffler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Big Brother Dean, Brothers, Character Death, Dean is Trying, Gen, He's trying so hard, How Do I Tag, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, I Don't Even Know, Oneshot, POV Dean Winchester, Sad Ending, Sam is helpless, Scared Dean Winchester, Short, obviously, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:48:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaleschnueffler/pseuds/Shaleschnueffler
Summary: His brother is suffering.He hears him cry out, but he can't move.He would get caught if he did.But he has to. He knows that he does, or it would be too late.Still, he doesn't.Not yet.Set somewhere between season 1 and season 3, but spoiler-free.





	Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again, with another probably-OOC-work of mine (English is still not my first language, this work hasn't been beta read so please, show some mercy), again, in the SPN fandom; and again, Sam suffers because why would he not.  
> Right now I'm just uploading some of the stuff I wrote over time because I somehow started to like the thought of spreading my work, no matter how shitty it is.  
> I'm quite sure this doesn't contain any spoilers but it's kinda possible? so...sorry if it does lol
> 
> This whole thing is actually just something I wrote down while listening to Kodaline's "Brother" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m6TXPNybrmk (Give those guys a try, they're amazing!)) which fits the two of them perfectly. I had the song on repeat and it really got to me & kind of pulled me down so this OS is only emotions and thoughts and really emo I suppose.  
> I should stop looking for excuses.

\- _**"DEAN!"**_

  
His heart shattered when Sam screamed his name.

  
He had heard his brother say his name millions of times already. He'd heard him whisper it, cry it, hiss it, roar it, snarl it, squeal it, croak it, slur it, whine it, sigh it, mumble it, shout it, _sing it, even_.

  
But never, _never in his whole life_ , had he heard Sam scream his name with so much _pain_ in his sore voice, with so much _despair_ and _hopelessness_ ; and Dean knew that it wasn't only a scream for help, _no_ , it was a _plea_ , his name was Sam's _lifeline_ , the only thing that he could hold on to, that he could think of and beg for; and Dean knew that Sam _wouldn't stop holding on_ , wouldn't stop _screaming out for him_ until he either came and saved his brother from the agony that was _taking him apart piece by piece_ , or until there was _nothing left to save_ , but a dead body, with empty, lifeless holes where his gleaming hazel eyes had once sparkled from tears of laughter, with the word " _ **Dean**_ " still on his cold lips.

He couldn't go and save him, not yet, not now.

  
_Patience._

  
He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, trying not to listen to his brother's screams, trying not to look at him, trying not to look at the way he sat, curled up in the cage's corner; the way he trembled, not only his hands but his whole body, shaken up by all the emotions circling through him; the way his chest heaved, quivering from pain and fear; the way the tears ran down his slashed face, colored red by the masses of blood that sprang from his wounds.

  
He felt his fingernails dig into his palm, so deep that soon they were to pierce his skin and draw blood but neither did he notice, nor did he care.

  
Although - or maybe _because_ \- Sam had gone silent, although - or maybe _because_ \- _everything_ had gone silent, Dean couldn't seem to relax, not even a little. His hands were trembling from the force with which he was still clenching his fists, and his knuckles had long gone white from the tight grip; and he was still keeping his green eyes _closed_ , as if that could somehow _change whatever it was_ that had taken place behind his shut eyes; as if the dark he saw could somehow spare him the sight of what _he had caused_ by _motionlessly standing there_ , hidden in the dark, _perfectly healthy and safe_ ; as if refusing to open them could _turn back time_ , _rewind it_ until _nothing of this had happened_ , until he could keep his brother _warm and safe again_.

  
He didn't dare to open his eyes. He didn't dare to breathe. He didn't dare to move.

  
He didn't dare to look at what he had caused.

  
He had never been in so much fear before. This _raw, cold fear_ that was slowly gnawing him to pieces from within; this _heavy, guilt-ridden fear_ that was making him shake and his eyes burn from unshed tears; this _quiet, deadly fear_ that was almost, _almost_ , masking the deep, piercing pain he felt in his tightening chest; the _infernal hurt_ mixed with pinches of _merciless anguish_ and _oppressive sorrow_ that was pressing down on his _anemically pounding heart_.

  
He knew that nothing had been lost just yet.

  
He knew that Sam could be still alive, still breathing.

  
He knew that it was his job to cover his brother, from everything, at all times, no matter what. _To keep him **safe**_. To rescue him, whenever he couldn't rescue himself. Even if it meant to give his brother his lungs so he could breathe. _To give his life for Sam_. It was his job. His job, his will and one of the few reasons why he hadn't left the world of the living just yet.

  
_\- "My brother, he...he will die without me."_

  
He had said exactly this while facing the reaper back in that hospital after this _horrible accident_ that had made him lapse into a coma, this _horrible accident_ after which their father had died **_because of him_**.

  
He couldn't cause another loss. He couldn't, he _wouldn't **survive**_ another loss.

  
But he couldn't open his eyes, either.

  
He could still save his brother.

  
Maybe.

  
_Maybe_ he could still save his brother.

  
_Maybe_ Sam was still alive.

  
_Maybe_ there was still hope left for the two of them.

  
For Sam to finish college, to become the best lawyer the world had ever seen; for Dean to do the only thing he'd ever wanted to do: To keep his brother happy and safe and by his side until they'd say goodbye on their dying day, not slaughtered by a vengeful spirit, or ripped apart by a pack of werewolves, but _content_ and ** _ready_**.

  
_Maybe._

  
Schrödinger's cat.

  
Except for the fact that _right here, right now_ , this wasn't about some boxed cat. This wasn't about some experiment, and he wasn't some crazy scientist.

  
This was about his brother.

  
And he was some selfish idiot who was scared of opening his eyes because he feared that he might have fucked up.

  
_\- "I've got you."_

  
He had said the last time that he'd more or less saved Sam's life, and Sam had choked out a rasped _"Dean"_ before he'd fallen into the older man's open arms and _just breathed._

  
Had he ever told his brother how much he loved him?

  
Probably not.

  
Would he ever get the chance to do so?

  
_Maybe._

  
If only he opened his eyes now, and stepped up to Sam, and asked _"Are you okay?"_ , and waited. If only he was brave enough to face fate.

If only Sam could say a single word, breathe a single breath, hum a single tune, release a single sob, do anything, _anything at all, really_ , as long as it told Dean that Sam, his companion, his _best friend_ , his _brother_ , _the reason why he was still here_ , was alive.

**_\- "Sam?"_ **

The word was only a breath, a quiet rasp, a tired whisper soaked in _hopelessness_ and _weary desperation_ , in _self-pity_ and _self-contempt_ , in _hatred guided only at himself_.

_**\- "Say something, Sam."** _

If he hadn't known better, he would've thought he was going to die just from the ache and guilt burning in his heart, while every other part of his body had gone numb.

There was nothing to feel but _pain_ , nothing to hear but the rushing of his own _pumping blood_ in his veins, nothing to smell but _agony and death_ , nothing to see but _black_.

His eyes were still closed.

_**\- "Please. Sammy. Talk to me."** _

The tear that rolled down his face tickled his cheek and so he wiped it away - the first motion he'd taken since he'd hidden away safely in the shadows.

He didn't want to cry. He wouldn't cry. Not again, not now, not ever.

_**\- "I'm begging you. Just say something, anything."** _

Of course, Sam didn't say a word.

Of course, he didn't open his eyes.

_Maybe._

But he wasn't ready to swap this "maybe" for a "not" just yet.

He wasn't ready to _open the box,_ to see whether the cat was _dead or alive_.

He wasn't ready to let this _glimmer of hope die_.

He wasn't ready to face yet another loss.

He just wasn't ready.

And he would never be.

_**\- "Don't you quit on me, Sam. Not now, not ever. You hear me?"** _

How come he was feeling so heavy?

_**\- "It's not funny anymore, please."** _

How come, right now, he couldn't get himself to move?

_**\- "Don't you dare go to hell without me."** _

He had to do it now, right?

He had to open his eyes, to face it.

Before they came back, before they _made sure_ that Sam wasn't breathing anymore.

He had to do this, for Sam. _For his brother_.

Unclenching his fists, he felt the blood from where his fingernails had pierced his skin, thick on his fingertips, and slowly wiped them off on his dirty jeans. He flexed his fingers then, anticipation running through his whole body, and then, he forced his eyes open.

His vision was a blur, a whole mess of colors and shades dancing in front of his eyes when he raised them from the ground.

His head hurt. He was dazzled by the light, no matter how dim it was.

It was the moonlight, he noticed, that was shining right through a slim window and lit up the floor right in front of him.

His gaze found the cage. Too small to hold a bear, too big to hold a cat - _Schrödinger's cat?_ -, _too small to hold his brother_.

He took a step, careful and tense and he cringed when something crunched below his feet.

_**\- "Sammy?"** _

His voice was, still, only a whisper, barely hearable but he knew that, in the quiet room, Sam would hear him if he could. _He couldn't_.

He was scared, _so utterly scared_ of what he was going to feel once he put his fingers to his brother's neck to feel for a pulse.

He was getting closer to the cage now, eyes darting everywhere, anywhere but to Sam. He couldn't face it, not yet. He needed time. If only a few seconds more.

_Time._

Time was everything he didn't have right now.

Time was the only thing one could take more and more of _without having it_.

And that was what he was doing. Taking his time, _something that he didn't have_ , and he knew that he should _stop_ but he still didn't speed up.

 _\- "Every second_ counts _."_

One of the rules their father had taught them years ago.

God, he wished he could _relive this, relive **every single word**_ , back from the time when they wouldn't regret _every single action_ they'd taken.

He felt the iron bars, cold below his blood coated fingertips as he reached out to them. The cage was unlocked, still.

He felt his heart sink at the realization. What was the use behind leaving a cage unlocked with a living being inside? No. _What was the use of **locking** a cage with a **dead being** inside?_

The door creaked when he slowly pulled it open, hands trembling, heart beating loudly in his tight chest.

The second he stepped into the cell, he lowered his eyes to Sam's body for the first time and then, he snapped, collapsing.

He fell to the floor and scrambled closer to his brother to lift his head up with his right hand and feel for a pulse with his left.

He hesitated, then.

_Maybe._

Sam's eyes were closed, face still twisted in distress and pain.

He felt his heart crack once more.

_Open the box._

And then his fingers connected to the cold, sweat-coated skin on Sam's neck.

His own rapidly pounding heart almost drowned out the shallow throb he sensed beneath his shaking fingertips.

_keep him warm and safe, cover him, rescue him, save him, **"I've got you."**_

He couldn't believe his luck.

He couldn't believe fate was on his side for once.

He couldn't hear his own heart anymore, then. He couldn't feel anything but the weak pounding, the _hope beating below his fingers._

He pulled his brother closer, wrapped his arms around him, _adrenaline thumping through his veins_ as he lifted the man up, slowly, carefully.

If they came back now, if they found him, there, on the ground, tightly holding on to his brother, _he wouldn't care._

One hand below Sam's shoulders, one below his knees, he carried him.

Through the cage's door, through the dim room, through the dark hallway that he'd come from.

_\- "We're carrying each other. And you know that."_

He felt Sam's _beating heart_ close to his, saw his _chest move_ shallowly and slowly.

If only Sam opened his eyes now.

If only Sam told him everything was going to be okay now.

If only.

Cold air hit his face as he stepped out into the autumn breeze.

He ran.

Didn't know where he ran, _hopefully somewhere safe._

_Keep him safe. Cover him. Rescue him. Carry him._

Sam clenched up in his arms.

If only he knew whether it was a good or a bad sign.

_**\- "It's gonna be alright, Sammy, don't worry."** _

_**\- "Dean?"** _

_**\- "I've got you, little brother. I've got you."** _

He was still running. His brother's breathing was slow, too slow, but he couldn't stop running, _**wouldn't** stop running._

_Sam would understand, once he was safe._

He had reached a village and knocked on the first door that he saw.

A woman opened a few seconds after, and the confused expression on her face was soon to be swapped for a horrified one when she laid eyes on the motionless body in his arms

He asked whether he could take care of his brother there, asked her to call an ambulance, trying to sound composed, calm, collected but the words came out as a slurred mess because he was talking so fast.

He didn't even care.

She told him to come in, where he could find towels and bandages.

He carried him.

Laid him down, looked him over. Bruises and slashes all over his body. Eyes closed, hands trembling, _heart beating._

He could still save his brother.

Nothing was lost.

He scrambled to his feet, hurried to get towels and bandages, although he didn't want to go, _to leave his brother alone._

He pressed down on the gaping wound in Sam's chest, desperate to somehow stop the blood that was welling out and soaking the towel in his red-coated hands.

_**\- "Stay with me, Sammy. You'll be okay. I promise."** _

_**\- "D'n..."** _

_**\- "I'm right here. Don't move, it's gonna be alright. I've got you."** _

Sam's chest rose noticeably as he heaved a deep breath, accompanied by a twitch of his hands.

_**\- "The ambulance is on their way, okay? Just stay with me now. Just stay with me."** _

He heard steps that sounded so loud in his oversensitive ears that he cringed. He kept his eyes on Sam, his hands on his chest, his lips open in a silent plea for his brother, _his everything_ , to _keep going_ , to _fight through this_ , to **_live._**

If the woman said something, he didn't hear it.

He was oblivious to everything around him.

What counted were the bandaged wounds on his brother's disrupted body; what counted were the shallow breaths that his brother took; what counted was that his brother was alive; _what counted was_ _his brother_.

_**\- "D'n, I..."** _

_**\- "Shh, quiet now. We'll talk later, yeah?"** _

He wasn't crying. He definitely wasn't.

This was just another one of those close calls. They'd talk about it, later, and think of all the mistakes they'd made, and laugh. Because that was how it had always been.

He noticed that Sam's hazel eyes seemed glassy when they locked with his.

They looked at each other, silently, for a minute, before, suddenly, he heard sirens howl.

Nothing was lost.

Not yet.

Another bunch of seconds and he has pulled away from his brother. He wanted to shout, to scream out, to tell Sam that, no matter what, he loved him, but he kept quiet. Fell to the floor.

Powerless.

Weak.

Worn out.

Anemic.

He watched the strangers carry his brother.

_Carry him._

A hand was placed on his shoulder and he would've jumped if he hadn't felt so numb.

_**\- "He'll make it. Right?"** _

_**\- "Hopefully. We're doing what we can."** _

Empty words. He'd learned to look through them years ago.

Still, they were all he had.

And so he kept quiet.

And he kept quiet when he was forced to get up, too, because for once, he felt too weak to protest and get up himself.

And he kept quiet when a blanket was put around his shoulders, because for once, he didn't feel like fighting, and just wordlessly wrapped it around his cold trembling body.

And he kept quiet when he was taken to the same hospital they'd brought Sam to because for once, he knew that he wouldn't be able to drive himself.

And he kept quiet when he sat down in the waiting room, doctors and nurses rushing past him without casting him a glance because he was too busy blaming himself to talk to anyone.

_Self-accusation._

He waited. For hours, he waited without moving a muscle, while just gazing at his shoes.

He still had blood on his fingers. His brother's blood.

_Ironic._

_He had his brother's blood on his hands._

He would've laughed bitterly at the thought but he couldn't even open his dry mouth.

If only somebody told him what was going on already.

If only somebody told him how his brother was, whether he would make it.

_Schrödinger's cat._

_Again._

But this time, he couldn't even open the box, no. He was forced to sit back and wait.

_Patience._

The sun was rising again. Bright rays were already dancing on the plain floor.

He was going insane. Hours had passed by.

_Time._

_**\- "Mister...Pender?"** _

He didn't raise his eyes, too scared of looking into the man's face.

He didn't want to know.

_Maybe._

_**\- "I'm sorry."** _

He felt his heart crack.

And then.

_**\- "We couldn't save him."** _

He felt his heart break apart.

His eyes fell closed, his fingernails dug back into the wounds in his palms, he convulsed his body, he was trembling again as he bit back tears.

His whole world was falling apart right there, right then.

Everything that he'd fought for, everything that he'd try to keep safe, everything that had kept him alive.

Everything that he'd lost.

_\- "We'll talk later."_

_\- "Stay with me."_

_\- "You'll be okay."_

_\- "It's gonna be alright."_

_\- "I promise."_

_\- "I'm right here."_

_**\- "I've got you."** _

And in-between all those words.

In-between all those lies.

_One single truth that he had never said out loud._

_One single thing that his brother had never known._

He silently mouthed the words.

As if it could change something.

As if it was enough to make up for what he'd done.

_As if it wasn't too late._

**_One single truth that his brother would never hear._ **

_Everything that he'd lost._

_Time._

_Patience._

**_Honesty._ **

_**\- "I'm sorry."** _


End file.
